One Night in December
by headrush100
Summary: Alexis asks a huge favor of her dad. Written for the prompts: 'a small cafe, punch-drunk tired, and scared'. Mentions of abuse that might be triggery. This is a Christmas special, written during a heat wave!


His mother had one that he'd made, and he had one Alexis made. Probably every home in America had at least one per generation. The Christmas tree ornament from hell – bits of fossilized macaroni stuck to a raggedy bit of cardboard, finished off with random daubs of red and green. Alexis had been so proud of it when she was five. Unlike the past three years, when she'd tried to throw it out each time they took the tree down, and every time he'd rescued it from the trash, insisting it was part of her history, and she couldn't disown it just because it could no longer be used to summon unicorns and Santa Claus. And he could never let it go.

This was going to be Alexis's first Christmas home from college, and he needed to show her that home was still home, and their traditions remained intact, even though Beckett was joining them this year.

Through some sort of awesome father/daughter psychic link they must have developed, his iPhone suddenly made a racket indicating Alexis was calling. He grabbed it and hit the answer key.

"Hey, sweetie, how's it going up there?"

"It's fine, Dad."

Something in her tone was off. "Is it?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do you sound like you're trying to decide whether or not to tell me something?"

A pause. "Dad, it's freaky when you do that."

"I've lived with you for eighteen years, pumpkin. Also, psychic."

She laughed a little. "Yeah."

For now, he would keep it light. "Do you want to call me back when you've decided to tell me how much bail to post?"

"Dad... Is Kate there?"

"No, she's at a conference in Boston. She'll be back very late tonight. Why?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Do you even have to ask me that?" Now he really was getting a bad feeling. "Alexis, what's the matter? Just spit it out, you know you can tell me." If it was some pimply-faced boy, he'd kill him.

"Okay... You know my roommate, Sam? The one who I told you was really nice to me when I was homesick?"

"Sam. Yeah." She was the reason Alexis had stuck out her first semester, and was starting to make friends and enjoy herself.

"Well, I haven't seen her for three days, since Tuesday. On Wednesday the police came to our dorm room, asking me if I knew where she was. They said that on Tuesday night her stepfather was shot in the head. Someone in the house called 911, and one of the neighbors said they heard screaming, and a gunshot, and saw someone who looked like Sam running down the street."

"Wow."

"No one knows where Sam is. The police think she did it, but her little sister's only eight, and too traumatized to talk, and her mom's a junkie, she was high the whole time."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sweetie."

"Sam wouldn't have done that, Dad."

He made a supportive but noncommittal noise.

"She _wouldn't._ She's not like that. She's _smart_, Dad, and she worked liked crazy to get a scholarship to come here. She's caring, and kind. I even saw her wade into the pond on campus to save a duckling from a swan!"

"Sweetie, you're a good judge of character, and I'm sure she is a good person, but sometimes, if people are put in extreme circumstances, they can act in ways you wouldn't necessarily expect them to. Believe me, I've seen it down at the precinct – "

"She told me about her stepdad. How he got drunk and beat her and her mom and her sister."

"Alexis – "

"Dad," she cut in, "remember when you had that app that tracked my phone?"

He blinked, trying to follow her train of thought. "I know, not my finest hour, but I deleted it right in front of you."

"No, I mean... Could you track Sam's iPhone and find out where she is?"

"Ah, sweetie..."

"Please? If you can find out where she is, she might talk to you, she knows you have an in with the police, and like you said, we don't know she did it – "

"That's not what I said, and the local police will have tried that already anyway."

_"Dad._ She's been a really good friend to me, and she's in trouble, and I want to help her if I can. She must've turned her phone off or taken the battery out or something, but I think she'll turn it back on to check on her mom and her sister. You just have to keep trying."

"Alexis, you can't just interfere in a police investigation. It's against the law."

"Okay, then," Alexis snapped. "_I'll_ track her phone, _I'll_ go talk to her."

Though momentarily taken aback, he quickly rallied, his emotion rising to meet hers. "No, you _won't._" He put the full force of his last-resort, _I mean it_ tone into it. "There's a gun involved, and maybe drugs, and who knows what else. It's not safe, Alexis, as well as illegal. I _forbid_ you to do that. Do you understand? You don't know what Sam might've been mixed up in."

"Dad, I'm eighteen and in another state, you can't forbid me. I'm not going to interfere in anything; I just want to know she's okay."

He sighed. He would have to play dirty. "You're right."

"I am?"

"You're a young woman, you're away from home, and there's nothing I can do to stop you if that's what you're determined to do." He rehearsed the next part in his head. _But if something happened to you, it would destroy me._ No. He couldn't put that on her; couldn't make her afraid to do what she thought was right.

"Dad?"

"So, say Sam isn't conveniently located at a major public transport hub. How do you propose to get to her without a car?"

Silence.

"Exactly."

"I'll find a way."

"Alexis." He was afraid that she would, too. "All right. I'll try. Send me her number and a photo."

"She's only seventeen."

"You've made your point."

"She's got nobody. No boyfriend, no other family, no friends besides me. All she does is study."

"I get it, Alexis."

"He used to burn her and her sister with cigarettes. And that's not all he did."

_Jesus._ "I said I'll try. I'm not promising anything."

_"Thank you, thank you! And Dad?"_

"Yes."

"Please don't tell Beckett."

He started pacing the living room. "I do this, you don't get to make conditions, sweetie. I'll keep you posted, and you let me know if you hear anything, all right?"

"Okay. I love you, Dad."

"Love you too."

They hung up, and a minute later Alexis texted him Sam's number and a photo of an ordinary-looking brown-haired girl grinning behind a huge pile of books. A girl after his own heart. She didn't look like the kind of person who would shoot someone in the head. But when did they ever?

With a heavy sigh, he downloaded the Phone Tracker app again, wondering what, if anything, he should tell Beckett.

***

After several hours of repeatedly trying Sam's number, the app finally came through. Williamsburg, Virginia. According to his satnav, it was 390 miles and six and a half hours away with no holdups or pee breaks. He checked his watch. 4.15pm. With his mother and Beckett both out of the picture for the night, there was nothing to stop him going down there.

Nothing but the fact that he was going across state lines to interfere in the family crisis and police investigation of a barely-legal girl he didn't know, who was probably wanted for murder. He could just imagine what Beckett would have to say to _that._ And she'd be absolutely, one hundred percent right.

Still, Alexis had seemed so sure, and if she was even half right about what the bastard had done to the girl and her sister, shooting would have been too good for him. And the final straw: if it was Alexis who was in deep trouble, he would want someone to help her.

He gathered up his car keys, some blankets and tyre chains, juice bottles and snacks. He tried to call Beckett, but her phone went straight to voicemail, and this would take more than thirty seconds to explain, so he resolved to try again later.

Twenty minutes later, the Ferrari growled onto I-95 South, and he was on his way.

***

On the drive down, which was interminable, dark, boring, and made his right knee go numb, he had plenty of time to think about what an extremely insane and probably felonious thing he was doing. And what were the odds that this girl would let him deliver her into the hands of the law, for God's sake? And yet, he didn't want to let Alexis down, and he _was_ worried about the girl. Even though he didn't know Sam, her story had appealed to his sense of justice. But stories had a habit of being a lot more complex than at first they seemed.

He made a pit stop somewhere near Baltimore, and checked his phone. There was a missed call from Beckett. He tried to call her back, but it went to voicemail again. _She's gonna kill me._ Over the city, lowering clouds glowed a dull grey-orange, and by the time he reached Richmond, Virginia, it was starting to sleet.

When he finally pulled into the central Colonial Williamsburg car park somewhere around midnight, it was snowing lightly. He yawned, stretched, and stamped his feet. His back and shoulders ached, and his knee crunched unpleasantly. But thankfully, Sam's location had held steady, moving only a few hundred yards closer to the College of William & Mary.

He walked through the deserted, slightly surreal winter wonderland of Merchants Square, with its eighteenth century clapboard storefronts spilling rainbow-colored light onto the snow which crunched softly under his feet. Cheerful, old-fashioned ornaments hung all around, and every door boasted a wreath of fresh pine and holly boughs. It smelled clean, like snow and Christmas trees. His breath hung in the cold air.

He continued towards the college campus, where the buildings became a little shabbier, more student-friendly, and were fronted with weathered brick and faux lanterns. He stuck his head into the few bars and coffee shops that were open, until he came to The Daily Grind Cafe, open 24/7. He spotted her almost as soon as he came in the door, but still did a quick double check of her photo to be certain. God help him if he got the wrong co-ed. It would be on page six by next morning.

She sat alone, huddled at the far end of a booth in the corner. Fortunately there were still enough students hanging around that the staff didn't detain him as he threaded his way through the maze of tables and chairs, over to the far side of the room.

Even from that distance, she looked in a bad way. A waitress stood by the table, tapping her pad with a pencil.

"Honey, you've been here three hours. Now, we don't like to rush our customers, but we need the table."

"Sorry. I just came in to get warm." It was stuffy in the crowded room, but she was still bundled up in a thick winter jacket. Her words were slow and slightly slurred, as though she hadn't spoken in a while.

"Just order a drink or something, and you can stay as long as you like."

She shifted, and Castle got the feeling that if she could've bought a few hours' warmth for the price of a drink, she would have. He approached the table as though he belonged there.

"Sorry I'm so late," he said, with an apologetic smile at the waitress. "Could I get a hot chocolate? What about you, Sam?"

She looked too stunned to respond, so he forged ahead. "Better make that two hot chocolates. Extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. And a menu, please."

The waitress flashed him a grin. "You got it."

He turned to the girl in the booth, scrunched down as far from him as she could possibly get. Now what? If she had been abused, the last thing she needed was a strange man invading her space. And yet, he'd driven almost four hundred miles, probably broken lots of laws he didn't exactly know about, and was damned if she was going to leave before she at least heard him out.

Her eyes were feverish, bloodshot, and kept closing, which seemed to frustrate her. There was a nasty cut and bruise around her eye that looked a couple of days old. He wondered if she was, or had been, using something. She looked completely out of it, yet utterly terrified. Did she still have the gun?

He remained standing at the end of the booth. "Sam Randall, I hope?"

She didn't confirm it, but she didn't deny it, either.

"I'm Richard Castle, Alexis's father. May I sit down?"

She tried to focus. "Alexis?"

"That's right. See?" He quickly pulled out his phone, and showed her a photo of him and Alexis, and then opened his wallet and showed her his driver's license. "May I sit down?" he repeated. She didn't say no, so he slid into the seat opposite her. She looked resigned.

"You're a cop," she said, as though every word was too much effort.

"No, I work with cops, but I'm not a cop myself. I'm a writer." So it wasn't cool to talk about your parents, but didn't Alexis ever talk about him?

"So you're not here to arrest me."

"No." Did he look like a cop?

"Then what are you doing here? Is there a prophecy that says I've been chosen to save the world?"

He blinked. "Not that I'm aware of."

Her eyes kept closing, and he wondered if he should call an ambulance, but really didn't want to deal with everything that would go along with it unless there was no other choice. "Sorry, that would be awesome, right? But no."

"I can't save anybody, anyway," she mumbled.

The waitress was back, bearing hot chocolates and menus. She slid a laminated menu in front of each of them. Castle was hungry. Dinner had been a stale Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that he'd fished out of the back pocket of the passenger seat while driving. From the way Sam was eyeing the hot chocolate, he was sure she was a hell of a lot hungrier than he was, but she didn't reach for the menu. He opened it out in front of her.

"Anything you want."

She swallowed. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"No."

He turned to the waitress. "Two burgers with curly fries, please. And some water."

"I don't want anything," said Sam, when the waitress had left.

"Then I'll have two burgers," he said, flashing back to many a restaurant dinner with his six year old daughter.

"I'm here because Alexis called me," he said, watching her closely. "She's worried sick about you. The police talked to her at your dorm room. They said that someone who fit your description was seen fleeing your house shortly after a disturbance in which a shot was fired."

Eyes down, brimming with tears, she shifted in her seat, too young, and apparently too inexperienced in these matters, to know better than to cover her tells.

"Can you tell me what happened on Tuesday night?"

She glanced up at him, swallowing hard, then shook her head.

He nodded. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anybody," he said, "Not even Alexis." This was painful territory, but it was a story he needed to tell, and perhaps she was the person who needed to hear it. "I went to private schools from an early age. When I was about nine, I had a friend. Steve. He was a great kid. Smart. Funny. Athletic. Was happy to be there." He smiled. "Not like me. It was only much later that I realized that for him, school was a refuge. Maybe his mother knew that too. He always used to come back from vacations with injuries. Bruises, something in a cast. Always something. Or even if he didn't, he was always quiet for a few days, before he became himself again. I asked him once what happened when he was at home, that he got hurt all the time. He shrugged it off; said he fell off his skateboard. When I persisted, he told me to mind my own business. This went on for two years. I knew something was wrong, but I was only a kid. I knew it was serious, but I didn't know what to do about it, and Steve had gone crazy when I said we should tell someone. Until one Easter vacation, when we were eleven, he didn't come back to school. His father had hit him so hard, he had brain damage. His mother divorced his father and has devoted herself to caring for Steve ever since, but of course, the damage has been done."

He looked up from his hot chocolate. He had her attention. "What I'm saying is, I know how these things can be hidden, both by the victim and the abuser. I know how kids can fall through the cracks and not get the help they need. And I know how bad it can get, and how the repercussions can echo throughout your whole life. And I know how guilty you can feel if it's going on and you don't, or can't, do anything about it."

She continued to stare, until he said, "This hot chocolate is really good, and I'm a connoisseur. You should try it."

She hesitated, but finally reached for the drink. Her knuckles were cut and bruised, and on her wrist he could see shiny circular scars that disappeared under her sleeve. He fought down the sickening upsurge of anger towards the bastard who would do this to a child. A silent understanding that they would not be commented upon passed between them, and she downed the hot chocolate in less than two minutes. The waitress brought their food, and he ordered her another drink.

"Did Alexis say anything about my mom, or my sister?"

"No, I but I'm sure someone's taking care of them."

She nodded miserably.

He took a bite of his burger. "So, do you know someone down here, or is this just where your money ran out?"

"Ran out."

When she took off she must've been so consumed with getting as far away as possible that she hadn't given a thought to what she'd do afterwards. "So you haven't eaten in three days?"

She cast a glance around the room. "I stole some candy bars. And there's a water fountain in the drug store."

"Where have you been sleeping?"

"Gardens. It's cold."

"I bet. You can't have got much sleep."

"I'd freeze. Have to keep moving. Have to keep watch."

"For the police?"

She nodded.

"Sam," he said, pushing ever so carefully. "What happened?"

She shook her head, on the verge of tears again.

"Okay," he backed off. "Don't talk. Eat."

She demolished the burger in half the time it took him, and, when he pushed them towards her, moved on to his fries.

"Would you like another one? Or something else?"

She shook her head, and finished his fries.

He was still working on his burger when she got a look on her face as though she was having some inward battle with herself, and with shaking hands, unzipped her jacket. He stopped eating. Her front was covered in bloodstains.

"You're hurt," he said.

"Not like he was," she whispered. "I shot him in the head."

He nodded.

"I didn't mean to. I was aiming for his arm. I didn't want to kill him." Her voice was almost unintelligible. "I tried to stop the bleeding."

"You called 911, and ran away when the ambulance turned onto your street."

She nodded. "I tried to get Abby to come with me, I tried to pull her away, but she wouldn't leave Mom, and I couldn't run with her in my arms." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I should've stayed with them."

"Wherever your mom and your sister are, I'm sure they're safe, and they're getting the care they need," he said.

"I'm a murderer."

"Was your stepfather dead when you left him?"

She flinched visibly at the memory. "No, he was moving around."

He watched her closely, and dropped his voice. "Do you still have the gun?"

"No, I threw it away. I just wanted to get rid of it."

"Do you remember where you threw it away?"

She shook her head.

He couldn't tell whether this was the truth or not; in the state she was in, it was plausible that she might not remember. In his pocket, his phone beeped. There was a message from Beckett. _I know you're in Williamsburg. I've spoken to Alexis. I know you mean well, but you have to get back here NOW before you get yourself into something I can't get you out of. Be safe. I love you. xxxx_ Shit, he should've taken the battery out of his phone so that the police couldn't get him with GPS. There was a not insignificant degree of selfish comfort in the fact that Beckett knew, and he didn't have to feel so alone out here on this limb. But now he'd put her in a bad position as well, and felt a nasty stab of guilt.

Sam was sitting up straighter. She looked terrified. "Are they coming?"

"Who?"

"Police."

"I don't know. The message was from my partner. She said she'd spoken to Alexis. She knows what's going on."

"Your partner... Kate?"

"That's right," he said, surprised. "Did Alexis mention her?"

For the first time, she smiled a little. "Yeah."

He slid the phone back into his pocket. "What we're doing here isn't exactly procedure. Kate and I could be in very serious trouble for helping you without the permission of your local police department." She opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a gesture. "That's our decision and not your concern, but you do need to let me drive you back up to New York. We'll talk with Kate. She'll talk with the police assigned to your case, and we'll do everything we can to help you." He was making some pretty big leaps there, but all he had to hold onto was the hope that somehow this could still turn out okay because if there was any justice in the world, it _should._ But he was old enough to know that trying to do the right thing wasn't always enough.

Her eyes darted about the room, plotting an escape route, and her rapid breathing indicated that she could be about to bolt. Between what had happened and where they were, he wouldn't be able to physically stop her. He reached across to lay his hand flat on the table near, but not touching, her.

"Sam, _don't._ You're hurt, you're exhausted, you've got no money, and it's damn cold out there. Besides," he said, playing a low card, "your mother and your sister need you. Neither of them will be able to testify like you can. You can tell the truth about your stepfather, and help your family to get through this. Let me and Kate and Alexis be on your side. It's about time _somebody_ was, right?"

Her eyes lifted up to his, holding his gaze. He didn't flinch. This was the right thing to do.

"Okay," she whispered, finally.

"Okay, you'll come with me to see Kate?"

She nodded.

Silently, he gave thanks. "Shall we go?"

Another nod. He paid the check, and slid out of the booth. She followed, stumbling, dizzy with exhaustion and who knew what else.

She jumped when he steadied her, but didn't pull away. "Thanks."

"No problem. My car's pretty close." He would have offered to let her wait inside while he went to get it, but he wasn't going to take a chance on whether she'd be there when he returned. He waited outside the ladies' room while she did whatever she had to do in there, and then took the world's fastest pee himself, in case she made a run for it while she had the chance. She didn't.

They walked slowly through Merchants Square, the snow a little deeper underfoot now, and the lights a little softer. Suddenly, Sam stopped. She tipped her head back, and let the snowflakes fall on her tongue. It was what you did when it snowed. He watched her for a moment, then did the same.

He opened his eyes and saw that she was almost smiling at him.

"Did you do this with Alexis when she was little?"

He smiled. "We do it now."

She nodded. "Even if you hadn't told me, I would've known you were her dad."

"How's that?"

"The way you talk about her. It's the same way she talks about you. She's really lucky."

"Yeah, well, I'm lucky too." He felt an overwhelming urge to drive to Connecticut and give his daughter a hug.

***

The drive up was thankfully uneventful. He tipped the passenger seat all the way back, Sam covered herself with the blanket, ate a chocolate bar, and that was the last he heard from her. That she was able to sleep while driving through a snowstorm in the car of a man she still didn't really know if she could trust made it clear that her last reserves were gone.

He wished he could curl up and sleep too. Instead, he had a four hundred mile night drive through icy conditions, with an uncertain reception looming at the Twelfth.

When, after what seemed an eternity, he pulled into the underground garage, Beckett, Lanie, Ryan, and Esposito were waiting. He asked them hang back while he woke Sam.

He gave her shoulder a gentle shake, and she jerked awake, disoriented.

"Whoa. Easy. We're here. Twelfth Precinct, New York City." He pointed to the others. "See down there? That's Ryan with the worried face, and Esposito with his arms crossed. The lady with the red scarf is Lanie, and next to her is Kate."

As if on cue, Kate smiled, for which he was very grateful. "They're all really nice, and really good at their jobs. And they're gonna help you. And possibly me." He looked back to Kate. "Although I give more for your chances than mine."

She nodded slowly. "Mr. Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"If... If I don't see you again, I just wanna say thanks." To his amazement, she hesitantly leaned over and hugged him.

He hugged her back. "Don't worry. We're gonna see you through this." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Beckett advancing. She wasn't holding handcuffs, which was a good sign. She opened the car door on Sam's side, and crouched down.

She gave the frightened girl what Castle knew was her 'calculated to be gentle and nonthreatening' smile.

"Hey, Sam, my name is Kate. I've heard a lot about you from Alexis," she frowned across the girl to him, "and a tiny little bit from Castle. Listen, you're not in any trouble. No one's pressing charges against you, but you can press them against your stepfather if you want to."

"He's dead," she whispered, dully.

"No, he's in stable condition in a secure ward. He's not gonna hurt you, or your mom or your sister ever again."

Sam exhaled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. His eyes connected with Beckett's for a second, and he knew she was right in this with them.

"Have you two sat in that Ferrari long enough?" said Beckett. "Shall we take this upstairs?"

***

Someone was shaking him. He had a crick in his neck, and felt groggy as hell. He was lying on his side on the break room sofa, his feet hanging uncomfortably off the end.

"Rick," Kate said, gently. Her voice was soothing, and he was so tired. But the shaking increased, and a hand lightly brushed through his hair. "Wake up. Just a little longer, and I'll take you home and tuck you in myself."

He smiled, and found her hand, twining their fingers together. "Promise?"

"Oh, yes."  
He opened his eyes with a groan. "What time is it?"

"About nine am. Two hours since you fell asleep."

"Where's Sam?"

"With Lanie, getting patched up and submitting evidence. I've already taken her statement."

He pushed himself up, ignoring his body's protests. "I don't want her to think I've just abandoned her."

"She doesn't think that. We told her you were out here. She said to leave you, let you sleep." She smiled. "She seems to have taken a shine to you."

"She took a shine to _you_ before she even met you. Alexis must have sung your praises. In fact, I think when I told her you'd help her, that was the turning point."

She smiled, adorably embarrassed. "I doubt that."

He kissed her. "I don't." He rubbed his unshaven face, trying to sharpen up. "I guess I'm in big trouble."

"You sure would be, if I'd told anyone other than our little gang."

He rubbed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts in order. "In the car, you said you'd spoken to Alexis?"

"Yeah. She called me last night when she couldn't get hold of you. She told me what she'd asked you to do. She was scared to tell me what happened, but she was even more scared that you'd get arrested for doing what she'd asked."

"Oh, God. Poor Alexis. She wasn't wrong, though."

_"Oh_, yeah. What you did was..."

He was braced for this. He'd been braced for it for about fifteen hours.

She smiled. "Incredibly kind. And compassionate. And stupid. And could have backfired like crazy in a way no one could've saved you from."

"And once you got involved, I could've taken you down with me." He squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry, Kate." Now that the adrenalin had worn off, the full force of what he'd done was beginning to hit him, and he felt a little sick.

"I did what I thought was right. If I'd gone down for it, it would've been my decision."

She leaned back and rubbed her eyes, and he fully registered that she too had been up all night, working incredibly hard to protect him and Sam when her position was just as vulnerable. "And so you helped us, at the risk of your own career."

She leaned back against his legs and nodded. "That was your Christmas present, Castle. Don't ask for anything from me for the next year. And don't ever do anything like that again. I spent _all night_ on the phone with the local PD, trying to convince them to give you time to get back before they set the Williamsburg PD on you and dragged you up to Connecticut as an accessory. If this gets back to Gates, that will be the _end_, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear."

She appraised him with a professional eye. "You've had a hard night, Castle, and you're no good to me when you can't see or think straight. I'm really sorry, but I need to take a statement from you before we can get out of here, and then I suggest you say goodbye to Sam, and let me take you home."

***

"Yeah, sweetie, Sam's being taken care of. When the formalities are dealt with, Kate and I were thinking maybe she and her little sister could come over here and stay with us for the holidays, while her mom's in rehab, and we all figure out what to do next. What do you think?" He held the phone away from his ear as Alexis let out a piercing shriek. Kate grinned.

When he hung up, he poured himself a shot of whiskey and joined her on the sofa in front of the fire. He'd showered and raided the fridge, and felt a new gratitude for the luxury of being able to do so whenever he felt like it, and a happy home to do it in.

Some ancient Christmas special was playing softly on the tv. Kate pulled a blanket over them, and arranged them so that his head nestled perfectly into the hollow of her shoulder. Her fingers played through his hair. Outside, it was starting to snow.

"You're amazing," she said, very quietly. "Until today, I wouldn't have believed I could have loved you more than I already do. But there you go, surprising me again."

"Same here," he mumbled, and smiling, he fell asleep.

End.


End file.
